Tag Archives: friends

School of Rock & Roll & Friends

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I can’t echo myself enough when I say that the most intimidating moments of my year have not been when I was face to face with creatures of the sea in the shark tank—or in the moment before I was going to jump out of a plane. No, instead the most intimidating moments of this year have been when I have sat down—or stood—with a friend and taken a chance to learn their craft. It’s as if I don’t want them to think I suck—or that I am insulting their craft with how bad I am. But even they were beginners once too—and that’s the part I have to remind myself.

I recently had the chance to sit down with two of my good friends in New York City, on two separate occasions, and learn both of their skills—both of their full-time hobbies—and both of their passions.

I first sat down with Grady who taught me how to pluck four chords on a guitar, and I then sat down with Brandon who taught me how manage a loveable beat on the drums.

I was fortunate enough to meet Grady and Brandon who perform in a band together called Assorted Animals, when I first moved to the city. After getting invited to a party that they were both at, I slowly became more and more integrated into their group of friends, started going to their shows, and enjoying post-show chats and outings.

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After just a few months of living in Manhattan, I was happy to have found such good friends—talented friends.  Due to hectic schedules and the rush of New York City, we don’t get to hang out as much as I’d like, so this was the perfect opportunity to see and spend time with both of them.

As I sat down with Grady, I reminisced on just how lucky I was to have met him—to have this opportunity to learn from him. Patiently and perfectly, he described how to sit comfortably, how to hold the guitar, and how to relax my hands to make for better playing. I remember just once prior to this lesson picking up a guitar, in 7th grade music class, and being incapable of wrapping my head—and hands around the musical beauty.  But now, after less than just two hours, I had gotten the basic four chords down and Grady was playing along with me.  Appropriately, we were playing a slowed down version of “Time of Your Life” by Green Day.

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This past week, when I sat down with Brandon, my patience with the drum set, grew thin. Like trying to figure out a rubrics cube, I could feel myself growing frustrated: I couldn’t get my left hand to work with my right or my right hand to work with my right foot. I felt as though I was a shambles. I’d turn to Brandon and apologize for my inability—and he’d smile and say, ”It’s okay. Let’s just try again.” And so we did—again, and again, and again. “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,” I whispered to myself. “Right hand/right foot, right hand, left foot” and I continued this repetition until I was playing 2 measures—3 measures—4 measures, and at some point I lost count—at some point I lost myself in the music.  And even though we weren’t playing the Green Day hit, as I had with Grady, I still felt as though I was having the time of my life.

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Early in the drumming lesson, Brandon told me that this was his first time ever teaching drumming lesson. My response was simple, “Great! That means you are hobby hoarding as well. YAY!” After our lesson, I told Brandon he should continue giving lessons—that I really enjoyed his time and felt that I had learned a lot. I also told him that this year has given me a way to spend time with people that I don’t often get to spend time with due to harsh schedules and that I was grateful we could work something out. Brandon was grateful too.

On the earlier occasion when Grady and I left the studio, I smiled and thanked him immensely. He seemed just as pleased with this lesson as I did. And while walking toward the train, Grady turned to me and said, “I think I want to start teaching more lessons.” And soon after, I received a text message from him saying, “That was great fun and quite inspirational for me as well.”

My intimidation of working with friends was now gone. I could tell that this was just as much an experience for them –as it was for me.

And with Grady’s message I knew, the hobby hoarding—had done as I always hope it will—worked both ways.

228770_1609774177584_1835743_n                                  BRANDON & GRADY July 4, 2011: Courtesy Grady’s Facebook

Brandon and Grady perform in a band called Assorted Animals. Their keyboard/piano/vocalist Laura Fisher can be seen in one of my earlier posts giving me a singing lesson.

Check them out at www.assortedanimals.com

The Need for Speed: Go Karting

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There are few things that have excited me more in life than the moment I drove a car, by myself, for the very first time.

I can remember the rain as it pattered on my windshield before my driver’s test, and how I worried that the conditions would make my test more difficult. And I can remember how I parallel parked perfectly, stopped smoothly at red lights, took turns cautiously—and was handed my driver’s license.  Most of all, I can remember my smile as I dropped off my dad, before heading off to school—on my own—for the very first time.

Prior to piloting a plane, driving a car was the most free I had ever felt. As a teenager, I drove my Saturn SL around Bethlehem, Pennsylvania blasting my music—and singing as loudly as possible. It was my own 90’s karaoke party every-time I turned the key, pulled out of my driveway, and headed to my destination.

But there was something I never felt absolutely comfortable doing–and that was speeding—even if part of me always wished I could. I’m not sure if it was because one of my childhood best friend’s fathers sat me in front of a Nascar race every time I came over, or because I constantly felt a need to be moving at lightning speed—but a part of me had always wished I could drive a race car—just one time around a track. When I scheduled an indoor go kart race with a group of friends at the Grand Prix race track, I realized that this was a stepping stone toward that goal.

As we loaded up our zip car to the race track, I could feel the excitement building–but not just mine–but  our entire group’s. Everyone was ready to race, some maybe even more so than myself.

As I pulled on my helmet, threw on the required neck brace, stepped into the small indie go kart, and buckled my seatbelt,  I could feel my adrenaline preparing to join the race.

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That little car may have only had a speedometer of 40 mph, but as soon as I had the courage to really press the pedal, I felt as though I could move at light speed. And even as my friends passed me, and even though I came in last place–I felt a freedom that I had never felt behind the wheel of my Saturn—or later my Honda CRV. With each turn, I felt more in control and with each acceleration, I could feel my heart beating right along with the echo of the engine. As I completed one lap after another, I breathed into the adrenaline. Again, I was in dead last, but it still felt like a win.

When the race was done, I could tell that our group of friends had enjoyed the race as much as I had.  And I’ll never forget what one of them said as we drove home:

“I gotta say—that first lap was really special—feeling how fast that little car could go—and seeing how it could drift around the turns.”-R. Buckley

I looked out the window and smiled. Robert may not know it—but he just expressed the same feeling that I’ve felt every time I’ve turned the ignition and jump started every hobby or activity that I’ve tried this year—he’s just expressed the feeling that I am hoping to inspire others to feel when they take a dance class for the first time—or jump out of a plane for the first time—or pilot a plane for the first time—or race a go kart for the first time: that something special has just happened—because more than likely, it has.

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Thanks for a great day—David, Rick, Mercedes, David and Robert.

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Grand Prix

333 North Bedford Road

Mount Kisco, New York 10549

On Top of the World

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“I’m through accepting limits–cause someone says they’re so
Some things I cannot change-but till I try, I’ll never know”
-Wicked

The sun is beginning to set over Manhattan, but the plane I am piloting is just rising over Jones Beach. The sky is a mix of blue, red, purple, orange, and yellows too. It’s beautiful.

-Photo taken by Kimberly Manley

I try to reflect on how I got here, 2,000 feet altitude on a pilot lesson that
will take me up the Hudson River, back down the Hudson River, around the Statue of Liberty, up the East River, and back out to Long Island.

The answer is simple. Because I said “Why not?” 

The first time that I ever felt on top of the world, truly on top of the world, I had just reached the top of a chair lift on the side of a mountain in Bolzano, Italy. By the time I reached the top of the mountain, I couldn’t tell you if I was still in Italy or if I had crossed the border into Austria. No one spoke Italian, and everyone seemed to be speaking German. I hadn’t an idea what anyone was saying, but I didn’t care–I was simply on top of the world.

I should have known in that moment how adventurous I was willing to be–but it didn’t hit me then. In fact, it took me until my second flying lesson, on September 23. And to be more exact–it took me until the plane I was piloting was sitting parallel with midtown-Manhattan. 

“This is amazing,” I just kept saying to myself. “Amazing.” I took in the views, I managed the controls, and I reminisced on my first flight, and the year of activities that had taken place behind me–and the rest of the year that would be culminating ahead of me. As the sun continued to go down, my visions only became more clear. Tears even filled my eyes.

-Photo taken by Kimberly Manley

I don’t believe that I’ve ever taken on a challenge of such great magnitude before–one that set me off into the world to tackle my fears, overcome my personal issues, and become an all around go-getter. This flight, now, gave me the time to see that.

I look to the back of the plane, and I see my friend Kim. I ask in the microphone on the headset how she’s doing. I can hear her smile as she says she’s doing great.

And I know in that moment, we were right where we needed to be–on top of the world.

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Special Thanks

Global Aviation Corp.
http://www.globalaviationcorp.net

All that matters is that you jump: Trapeze

“All that matters is that you jump.”

One of my trapeze instructors whispers this to me as I am suddenly about to swing off a platform that feels as though it is miles from the ground.

I take a deep breath, bend my knees and then leap-I leap for my fears of heights- for my fears of falling- I leap for my friends – for proving that my last turbulent experience dealing with heights hasn’t held me back- and I leap for myself. And I soar- like a bird. I feel the air rush past my face. I hear for my commands from below. Legs up. See my hands. Let go. Look for Brooklyn. Enjoy the ride. And boy was I enjoying the the ride.

I listen for my commands again– Legs down, and “up,” which in trapeze lingo means… Drop.

“Awesome,” I proclaim and I get giddy about trying it again.

Trapeze was one of the greatest activities I’ve tried this year. Joined by good friends, I knew that this was the best way to kick off a Saturday morning. And not only was it fun–but it taught me a great lesson as well.

“All that matters it that you jump.”

The words continue to echo.

A metaphor flashes before my eyes.

Every day asks us to jump- to make a choice.

We can either stand still or make a change. It may not literally mean a jump from the sky- but it could rather be as simple as a phone call to an old friend, or family member we’ve lost touch with. It could be taking a new job–or having the courage to ask for a raise at your current one.

In the end, all that matters is having the courage to jump.

Amy

Lindsay

 Rena

 Christine

Special Thanks
Brent Hankins

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Trapeze School New York
TSNY
http://www.trapezeschool.com

A Laughing Matter: Laughing Yoga

.In my opinion, every mix tape of life should have a laughter track.

Laughter is universal.. It’s not age specific. It’s not ethnically specific. It’s not race specific–and it’s not gender specific. And when we use it to promote good (laughing together — rather than at someone) it is the most beautifully common spoken language in the world. Yes. I said language.

And as a good friend once told me, “95 percent of life should be filled with laughter.”

As a stand up comic, you’d think this would be the first type of yoga people told me about. But it wasn’t. In fact, I only recently discovered laughing yoga while reading Gretchen Rubin’s Happiness Project. People kept suggesting hot yoga, hot yoga, hot yoga (and i’ll get there), but as soon as I read about this–I was baffled as to why no one had told me about it sooner! And it was one of my FAVORITE activities yet.

This should be the point in which I jump into why laughter is amazing, beautiful, and wonderful. This should be the point where I tell you that laughter changed my life. This should be the point that I make note of how I became a stand up comic to give people one of the greatest gifts of the world. And this should be the point where I use a metaphor to tell you how life and laughter make the world go round. But for now, I hope you just keep enjoying the laugh track.

Signed,

The Hobby Hoarder

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Special Thanks

Better Laugh Yoga

www.betterlaugh.us

&

Dr. Alex Eingorn

Visit Better Laugh Yoga on Monday evenings @ 730pm
Better Health Chiropractic, PC
825 Seventh Avenue (53rd Street)

dr@betterhealthnyc.com

Color Me Maybe: Running “The Happiest 5K on the Planet”

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Every once in a while, it’s really nice to go back to old hobbies–hobbies I’ve hoarded, for life, in the past. Like old friends, they tend to welcome us back in with open arms when we let them.

I’ve been running races for just over three years now. In the spring of 2009, I ran my first 5k in Rhode Island, and just two months later, I ran my first half-marathon–which for a long period of time, I considered the proudest moment of my life. Since then, I’ve ran a number of 5ks, several 5 milers, a 4 miler, and a second half-marathon. Post second half-marathon, my legs yearned for a break. I went a month without running–and then another month. In June, I took my first run again–and still my legs said, “What do you think we are? Machines.” And thus began my longest hiatus from running, since my field hockey team was cut in college.

At this point, I had already signed up for the much anticipated Color Run. Nervous, I began to run three weeks before today’s run–to try and get back into 5k shape. I woke up early during my work trip, I ran, I walked for an extra work out, and today, on race day I woke up with an excitement that I knew very well beating in my chest. I threw on my white shirt, my white shirts, and slid on my bright new yellow socks:

If you could see my face at the same time as I took this photo-you would know that I totally had my game face on. While my friends and I made our trek out to Floyd Bennett Field and the Aviator Complex, I continued to spontaneously yell about how we were heading to the “Happiest 5k On the Planet.” And the truth was–we did end up at the happiest 5k on the planet. (Even the post color run patterns on my shirt said so!—Check out THAT smile on the back of my T)

As my friends and I made our way through the thousands of color runners, we stopped for free samples–happiness mingling–and special photos (which I am sure we will have a great laugh about later). When we reached the race track, I already felt a huge smile forming across my face–it could have been because “Call Me Maybe” was playing, but I have a feeling it was because I was surrounded by tens of thousands of people who signed up to have BRIGHT COLORS thrown at them in a city that tends to stick to it’s blacks and grays. I spotted neon sunglasses, much like my own (I went with the blues today instead of the yellows–for color stain reasons), neon socks, neon wristlets, neon shorts, neon everything. New York was already looking happier!

As our wave approached the starting line, I watched smiles turn to grins. It felt much different than many of the road races I’d done before, where everyone paced at the start line, worrying if their clip on their shoe to record their time was attached right. This was much more relaxed–much more anticipated–much more happy. We weren’t racing for medals–we were racing for bright yellows, pinks, greens, oranges, and blues. We were racing for happiness–and it was clear that, even in the early moments–we had won. As I ran and rolled through (YES ROLLED THROUGH) color stations, I felt life begin to feel a bit brighter–a bit more beautiful–a bit more happier.  (Just call me a hippie already 😉 ) But really–it truly was–the happiest 5k on the planet.

In the words of the Muppets: “Life’s a happy song–when there’s someone by my side to sing along”–or in this case: Run along.

 


 

 

 

 

 

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On another “Happiness” note, my good friend, fellow comic, and ventriloquism teacher April Brucker will be releasing her book this week entitled:

 I came, I saw, I sang: Memoirs of a New York City Singing Telegram Girl

 Join her fanpage HERE – and PURCHASE the book next week. I know I will!

It’s All About the Rebound: Stunt Trampoline Jumping

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A trampoline can teach someone a lot about life. I didn’t know that, of course, until I made my way back to the Hollywood Stunt Center, in Greenpoint, Brooklyn this past weekend for my lesson. What’s great about a trampoline is that it teaches you the true nature of a fall–of getting back up–and the even more successful rebound (Of course I will be taking an urban rebounding class this fall!)

During many moments in life, I often feel like my feet have been swept out from right underneath me, even when they are still, right there beneath me–fully in contact with the pavement. Too often I forget to feel my feet on the ground, and the pounding of my heart against my chest–even when it’s the first lesson I learned this year in acting class.

It wasn’t until my legs and feet literally came out from underneath me, at this lesson–that I realized how important their strength in holding me up–and pushing me, really significantly matters–and has always mattered.

After several falls–regaining my balance, flexing my muscles, I found myself jumping–not only successfully–but even higher–the way I imagine the success I may find in life. It’s all about the rebound from the fall–all about the rebound. Jump up–Jump up and get around.

Special Thanks

Brent Hankins

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Hollywood Stunts
www.hollywoodstunts.com

The Hobby Hoarder Brews Beer

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“You were outed early,” says a fellow beer brewing classmate. “You’re here for the hobby aspect…not the beer aspect,” He laughs. I laugh along. He’s right. I am not a drinker. In fact, my friends often wave alcohol in my face in hopes that I’ll take even a sip. For the most part, I can’t stand the taste of alcohol, and I can have a pretty good time without it. So why would I ever want to do beer brewing?

Because it’s a craft, and who knows maybe it would be a craft I would want to continue. I never enjoyed science class, but maybe if fermenting and beer brewing were part of it–I’d have a different take.

I also think it’s good to know exactly how the food and drinks are processed that we are willing to put into our body on a regular basis–or in my case–a non-regular basis.

And of course, it’s always wonderful to meet new people with passions and knowledge that you may have never met otherwise.

And that was one of the best parts of my 6 hour day, spent in Brooklyn Heights.

I came across Fritz Fernow on SideTour, a site one of my bosses had introduced me to. On the site, he offered a one day home-brewing workshop for just $35 dollars. I couldn’t pass it up–and I am glad I didn’t. The moment I got to the door, Fritz smiled at me and kindly let me in. Immediately, I was met by his playful siamese cat Oscar.

One by one my six other classmates shuffled through the front door, and not before long we were on our six-hour adventure. Fritz took us through the ingredients, and offered a brief summary of what the day would look like, and then we began.

Passionately, Fritz spoke about his encounters with beer throughout the day and how he got into it. This was his 105th batch, but we could all tell it was not his last. With a smile on his face, he told us much of what he knew about beer, but I can guarantee not all. He is an encyclopedia of brewing. The perfect teacher.

During a rest period, he led us down to his bedroom, where his closet holds a kegerator–yes a kegerator. Most people have laundry baskets in their bedroom closets–but not him. He and his wife have a kegerator. Talk about a brew-fast in bed!

As the day continued, the 7 students bonded over casual conversation, lunch, beers brewed by his previous Sidetour class, and the anxiousness of the final steps of beer brewing which in a short were:

*Add the Hops
*Stir
*listen to Fritz talk about his experiences brilliantly (Really!)
*Cool
*Add the yeast*Declare you have beer — well at least you’ve got beer processing.

In four weeks the seven of us can return to try our beer. Cheers! I wonder if it will just keep the name 105? I wonder what I would name my beer if I brewed it myself on a consistent basis?

Libbrewery; Libation (The comedian Randy Tongue suggested that one); Libs Hops (Hops are female flower clusters of a hop species that you add for flavoring and such). Or maybe I’d open my own brewery called: Hip HOPS and play really loud hip hop music while serving really delicious beer. Oh the life.

Fritz hasn’t come up with an official name yet, but from what I tasted of the previous brew (Yes the non-drinker gave it a taste–YOU HAVE TO IN THIS CASE), I think he could easily call it “Fritz Fantastic Fix,” because even as a girl who can’t normally stand the taste of alcohol, I was able to taste this brew with a smile on my face.

Here’s our recipe taken directly from the blog Fritz wrote after our class!

Grain Bill:
12 lb 2 Row
8 oz Carapils
8 oz Bairds Light Carastan 13-17
8 oz Bairds Carastan 30-40
4 oz Red Wheat

Hop Schedule:
FWH .5oz Cascade
70 minute boil
60 min. 1.5oz Centennial
15 min. .5 oz Simcoe
10 min 1oz Columbus + Wirlfloc and Nutrient
1 min 2 oz Amarillo

Wyeast 1056 on a stir plate 18 hours in advance
Mash grains at 152 degrees for 60 minutes
preboil: 1.054
post boil: OG 1.063

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Fritz Fernow
Sponsored by SideTour
Located in Brooklyn Heights.

Check out More of Fritz on Time.com and then sign up for his SideTour!